A Sad and Terrifying Truth: Bat Boy's Broken Heart
by The Soup
Summary: Alastor won't come out of his dressing room and nobody knows what to do.


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Disclaimer: Joey-Joe and other Viewtiful thingies belong to Capcom and they would p0wn me if I said it was mine, mine, all MINE:3 

Author's notes: There are no words that can describe the story or its humor. One tip though: WATCH THE DIALOGE. That's where it mostly can be found. Excuse me if I offend and forgive me if you get lost – This story is uncontrollably, inexcusably hilarious and may cause undeliberate flatulence and other weird noises. DO NOT SUE! Violators will be shot; survivors will be shot again. For my friends at Bay High School: "1 4t3 j00r r4m3n n00d135"

Get on the pony and ride!

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**CAPTAIN BLUE CHECKED** his clipboard. He mumbled notes to himself, and he made sure everything was in primo condition. His eyes scanned the spreadsheets and numbers, and then he flipped the page, chewing the cap on his Bic ballpoint pen. His little humming melody he had been composing hit a sour high note a bit too high. His smile died slowly on his face. He gasped, the pen cap dropping to the floor. He swallowed a wade of spit and it slid down his throat like a broken egg's yoke down a kitchen wall.

He paused. "Hmmm…. Everybody is here except—"

"**ALASTOR!** Alastor, you can't do this! You can't just lock yourself away in your dressing room! It ain't right! Come on out! We've got a movie to make today! C'mon, git outta there, you freaking crybaby primadonna!"

"Leave me alone, Dennis…. I hate you all, every last one of you!"

A woman's voice spoke softly from within the crowd of backstage associates, "C'mon Alastor, this is immature for an action hero!"

"Shove it, Maya!"

"Alastor, get the Swiss out of there!" screamed the Prop Designer, Bob Willis who was affectionately nicknamed "Bobby-Gigalo-Willy" and "Bobby G." by his closest friends and dearest enemies.

"NO! You can't make me!" He sobbed from behind the door, hysterically. "WAAAAAAHHHH! I am so misunderstood…" Alastor sniffled.

Bob was rudely shoved aside. He whipped around and saw that a man had stepped to the door, gently stroking his shoulder-length blonde lock of hair that trailed down in vivacious curls at his collarbones. "Come on out, Alastor," said the man in an authentic accent, who was the famous and widely know as the make-up artist Will Frank, Captain Blue French-Angelo-Saxon friend from film school. "I'll put on your make-up first, even before Joe, so you can have more free time,"

There was a great silence that ate upon the tension of the taut strings of the gaggle of producers, prop designers, artists, costume directors, FX artists, and other movie associates as they all stood in dead silence in front of Alastor's dressing room. Some bore brightening smiles, others remained as sullen as ever.

Alastor's voice peaked liked a teenager and crackled with profound emotion. "But then I can't eat my muffins cause it'll mess-up my makeup!" He sobbed again, his voice squeaky like that of a sixteen-year old cheerleader, who just got dumped the night before the prom (because her boyfriend learned that he was secretly homosexual and had feelings for the school's Russian ex-gymnast janitor), had a positive pregnancy test for triplets, and had HIV.

(Some totally random dude laughed by the wall at his own perverted in joke, relating towards muffins, flyswatter-weilding feminine elves in bondage, cheese dip, a dead stripper dressed as a panty-flashing vampire, and touchy-feel-y turtles. He painfully stifled his convulsions, and then quietly excused himself to the men's room, where he exploded with laughter while sitting on the pot. He began to glow with pretty colors of magenta and radioactive violet as he still laughed. After a few minutes of straining, he then raised his hand to the roof and formed a complicated hand gesture, dropping a twenty-sided die and shouting, "Flatulence Drive!" Because of his Dungeons and Dragons Mage, level-5 complete miscast, suddenly and sadly, the random man, who we found out was named Philip Beans, crapped out a lit stick of dynamite and met a fiery demise. Five hours later he was found, plastered to the ceiling, nude and charred, with an absolute expression of humor on his face. Nobody was able to explain the phenomenon, not even his mad and raving half-brother Terrence Le-Tort and his troupe of misfit, gypsy drag-queen liberals.)

"Alastor," murmured Will Frank, pacifyingly. He tapped the door with one finger and it came ajar. Will slowly crept his face through the crack. "Ala-"

A half-empty, melting bucket of chocolate moose ice cream flew at the door, nearly splattering Will across his pretty face, who quickly shut the door in time.

"Leave me alone!" cried Alastor in that seriously high-pitched feminine voice just like before.

Will Frank turned to his coworkers and on-lookers and shrugged in defeat, walking away rather disturbed. Everybody else followed, chatting in hushed tones. It seemed as though there was nothing to do, and they all felt helpless towards the situation. Why had Alastor locked himself up in his dressing room? Why did he not want to speak politely to anyone?

**ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES** passed, and Alastor was still in his dressing room all by his lonesome. He had not even came out to go to the bathroom. He just rather sat there in the darkness, with his unshaven rugged chin, bloodshot eyes, heart-patterned boxers, potato chip bags, pork rinds, and ice-cream canisters. He continued to sit there on the couch weeping bitterly, chewing on his handkerchief, lying on the loveseat all curled up in the fetal position. Alastor never felt so misunderstood, so alone. He never knew a restless heart, nor a busy soul or a whopper case of indigestion and heartburn. All he wanted now was to be forgiven for his flirty ways, and so he sought redemption and comfort at the bottom of a SunKist two-liter and a gallon of blue moon ice cream, which gave him retribution in the form of diarrhea. (Gwad, he wanted that liquid dookie to cleanse him of his foul-hearted ways! A clean colon seemed the only answer.)

A bodacious blonde chick came running down the hall, and skid-halted in front of Alastor's door. She pawed at the door and cried waterfalls for her fiancée. She was banging on the door in despair with her fists of love and fury. She had to reach him, and she thought to herself…. Dammit, Goldie! You cannot lose him now!

Goldie, and Alastor knew this, bore a fierce resemblance to Sylvia. Well, duh, there is no surprise there (unlike poor Philip): Goldie was Sylvia's twin sister. Seriously, she looked like Sylvia, only without glasses. However, Alastor was hungry like a wolf when it came to Goldie's sexy beauty and even now in his six and a half-hours of darkness he would not allow himself to forget their wild nights. (Man, that was one crazy Yom Kippur!)

"Allie! Allie! Allie! Allie, please!" Goldie pleaded, gushes of tears pouring down. "Honey, please! Tell me what's wrong!"

"NO! You won't listen to me and you wouldn't understand!" Alastor shouted, thick with emotional anguish.

"Allie, PLEASE! I'll do anything you want," She said, beginning to cry herself.

"R-r-really?" Alastor asked, innocently and slightly getting happier.

Was there a tiny glimmer for salvation?

"Oh! Alastor, anything at all! Anything at all," Goldie said, touching the door with her hand and leaning closer. The side of her ribs soon rested on the door and she placed her ear on the wood as she listened to what he was saying, longing to be that close to him but listening to his heartbeat.

"Well…." Alastor's voice trailed off as his tumbled into deep thought. He drawled, "Anything?"

"Yes, anything!" Goldie replied, wiping her tears away and beaming meekly. She began to imagine that Alastor was now standing up, leaning close on the otherside of the door, just waiting for the moment when he would throw open the door and snatch her up into his dressing room for what she considered his "off-screen action"

"Well, then…." He paused… Goldie's heart skipped a beat, as she prayed to hear what she wanted to hear him say… "Can you be a true woman to me?"

"Oh, Allie!" Goldie swooned.

"Can –" Alastor took a deep breath and then continued, "can you go get me so more ice-cream?"

Goldie swung her head around, letting down her hair in ecstasy and hyperventilating. She grinned. "Anythin—" Then her smiled dropped and her fantasies were slammed to a dead stop. She screwed her face up in confusion "—ice-cream?"

"You know, double fudge, mint, cookie dough, rocky road, sherbert, strawberry, vanilla – anything! I just need more ice-cream!" Alastor whined in selfish whining.

Goldie at first seemed a bit put out. She blew on her bangs that hung in her eyes and then she put them behind her ear. Her grin vanished. "Is regular cookie dough fine?" Her voice sounded intense with silent anger disguised cleverly and vexed-ness.

"Oh yes, thank you sweetie. Talk to you later," Alastor happily remarked, flopping down on the loveseat. He picked up the remote and changed from the Lifetime Channel and started watching Spanish soap operas. "Bye bye,"

Goldie ambled away, feeling a mingle emotion that was one part rejection, one part disappointment, and one part perplexed bemusement.

On the television screen some Spanish dude, embracing a woman with long black hair, cocoa skin, and a cup-size D, said something incomprehensible in Spanish in a passionate, delicate whisper.

Alastor's eyes welled up with tears and his puckered lips trembled.

"I feel your pain!"

**JOE WAS CASUALLY **strolling down the hallway, hands stuffed in his cargo shorts as he whistled a tuneless song. He sighed happily and stopped at Alastor's door. He brought his hand out of his pocket and rapped politely on the door.

"Yo! Alastor! Five minutes to showtime," He said, loud enough as it is. He waited…. "Dude, he might be in the bathroom…" (Mind, he knew nothing of Philip being coal-black on the ceiling with peeling flesh and exposed man-parts) He waited a little longer. He cupped his hands in front on his mouth and shouted, "HEY! ALASTOR! YOU IN THERE? DUDE, STOP TAKING A DUMP! IT'S TIME TO GET ON STAGE!"

"Go away!"

Finally, thought Joe. He smirked…. Then frowned at his friend's foul mood. "What? Did I do something?"

"Just leave me alone,"

"Alastor, what's wrong with you?"

"You wouldn't understand!"

"As long as it ain't an SAT question or something to do George W. Bush's popularity, dude, I'll fine. Try me,"

"Go away!"

"You already said that," Joe said, lowly, staring stilettos at the door.

"Piss off, Joe!" Alastor snapped.

"That's better," Joe said, sounding satisfied. "Now, what's wrong? Glad you're working on your lines, though,"

"But I'm not,"

"Then what's up?"

"…I can't tell you,"

"Why?"

"Because you're stupid, and you've never been laid before, and your mama dresses you funny!"

"Woah woah woah! WOAH! Don't you dare be talkin' 'bout my mama! No—wait—what was the one before that?"

"Uhhhh….you're…stupid?" Alastor said, confused at the Red Hero's reaction.

"Oh!" exclaimed Joe. "Wait—what was the one after that?"

"You're…. mama dresses you funny," Alastor's had flickered normal there for a split second, thanks to Joe's unconscienceously clever mind game, a.k.a. "Ask Dumb Questions"

"Ooooohh…" Joe nodded, until he realized what Alastor had said "—Don't you dare bring my mama into this!" Joe perked up into a battle stance and leaped into a high jump. "Hiiiiiiiii—yaaaaaaahhhh! _Red Hot Kick_!" He kicked down the door in a un-Viewtiful fashion, knocking in off its hinges and flat to the floor, the victorious geek wonder standing proudly as he struck a pose. "You dig?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow and still smiling.

"Uhhhhhhh…." Alastor vocalized. He was but a shadowy bulk sitting before a flashing television screen. Joe could see no more of him.

Joe stepped off the door and started scratching his goatee in thought about what to do with his little oppsie.

"Uhhhhhh… sorry, but…. Are you coming onto me?" Alastor asked, as though greatly disturbed to a point of fleeing.

"Ahhhh, I'll get someone to fix that right a way—no—what what what WHAT?" Joe turned around and contorted his facial features with a sort of dense understanding about what his best friend had just asked him. "I, ah…" He nervously laughed, reaching a hand behind his head to scratch some of his hair spikes. "I didn't think I was…."

Joe dropped his hands to his side and walked forward just a bit until he saw that the man on Alastor's soap that was still on t.v. said something in Spanish directly into the camera. His fiery almond-colored eyes flickered with the heat of the moment, and then the man went back to making out with the longhaired woman from before.

Joe snorted, holding in a laugh. What had he been thinking? Joe became distracted and asked, "Why are you watching soap operas?"

Alastor's eyes bubbled up with tears, but Joe was facing the other direction.

"It slowly takes the pain away," He broke into sobs, flicked off the soap opera, turned on the tabletop lamp shaped like a rooster, and looked pitifully at Joe. "She'll never love me ever again!" He collapsed on the armrests dramatically and gave Niagara Falls a run for their money.

"Huh?" Joe blinked, itching his nose and then stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Who'll never love you again? Goldie?"

"OHHH! She'll never forgive me!"

"Who'll never forgive you?"

"She doesn't love me anymore!"

"WHO DOESN'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE?"

"Six Machine. She…I…we…I….I don't know why! She just won't talk to me anymore!"

Joe immediately stopped smiling as the color in his face slipped away. He stared off into endless time, his mind click-humming and buzzing with the thousand pieces of the moment as he came to a horrible reality.

"Uhhhh, dude," he said, " hate to tell you this but…. SIX MACHINE'S A GUY!"

"OH, SHE'LL NEVER" Alastor wailed to heaven, and then fiercely looked at Joe with a look of angry shock "—Six Machine's a guy?" He said, questionably recovered from his emotional stress.

Joe slowly nodded.

The horror of it all quickly spread across Alastor's face. "OH MY GOD!" He screamed and frantically began running around the room in a sweaty tank top, boxers, and barefoot. Suddenly he stopped. He mused, "Well, I guess I'm not cheating on Goldie anymore…." And then he went back to screaming and running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Joe suddenly got slapped in the face by exactly what Alastor had just said. Did he want to know what Alastor had been doing to his beloved Six Machine-A-Go-Go? His eyes twitch-quivered and he placed his hands on both sides of his face in true Home Alone fashion. "OH MY GOD!" he cried, "AHHHHHH!"

Alastor continued to run about the room, waving his arms in the air like teenyboppers three years ago at a Backstreet Boys concert. Joe joined him and together they ran in circles, howling like mad. When Alastor stopped running in circles, Joe stood in the room muttering to himself. Suddenly Alastor clinged to Joe, so Joe clinged to Alastor, and they both screamed in unison as they man-hugged,

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! OH……. MY….. GOOOOOODDDDD!"

"OH MY GOD!" Alastor wailed, and then snapped out of it. "You said we were on in five?" He said, in a neural, nonchalant voice that certainly that of an imperious and obnoxious man, and not that of a crying girl who found out that she was with the child of a gay man.

"Yeah, yeah in five," Joe said, just as casual and looked at his V-Watch. "Well, actually in two minutes,"

The film heroes were still hugging.

An awkward silence passed. (Joe's mind could not help but wonder about the phrase: _Every awkward silence a gay baby is born._ For reals? He would have to look into that.)

Alastor began, staring horrified into space, "Oh god—"

"—We're hugging," Joe finished, staring as well.

The two guys looked at each other, freaked out, and then let the go. While Joe tried to throw up in the corner—

"I've been poisoned although we didn't kiss!"

—Alastor dusted himself off, fixed his greasy hair, and then started coughing curtly.

"Ahem," Alastor coughed.

Joe continued his charade.

"AHEM!" Alastor coughed again, and this time it caught Joe's attention.

Joe sheepishly behind him to Alastor and stopped vomiting air. He straightened up and then coughed lightly as well.

"Ahem… that never happened," Alastor said between coughs, sounding particularly peeved..

Joe, walking out of the room, put in casually, "What happened?"

Alastor cocked an eyebrow. He was seriously getting pissed about Joe stupidity. "You know, you, and me, and the hugging, and the crying, and Six Machine and the—"

"But I thought that never happened?" Joe looked smug.

Alastor shut up right away. "Oh, right. I gotcha. Now please excuse me while I return myself to my former beauty," He disappeared behind the door.

"Whatever," Joe shrugged, relaxing on the wall and grinning.

**NOT LONG AFTER** ten minutes or so, Alastor came out of the dressing room, cleaned up and shaven, sparkling with his purple and black henshin uniform, black wings, demon tail, and horned helmet-visor. Joe smiled knowingly, and together the two friends, who once were arch-nemesis in Movieland, walked down the hallway, side by side.

Silence passed sweetly, but it was all too brief.

Alastor asked, "Did Goldie ever come back with my icecream yet?"

Joe tensed. "Oh…. That was yours? I….kinda ate that," He gulped nervously.

Alastor reached out and slapped Joe upside his skull. "You idiot! I'm going to kill you!"

"Ow! That really hurt—"

"You dumbass!" He slapped him again, and then again, and again, until Joe took off running and he started throwing punches.

"Ow ow ow ow! Hey hey hey hey! Watch the hat!"

"I'll kill you!"

"You already said that before!"

The chase let off for a bit as Alastor had to think about it for a moment….

"I'll _still_ kill you!"

"Agggghhh! No! Don't kill me!"

The chase let off again as Alastor casually thought about it… Joe rested his on his knees, catching up with his breathing.

"Oh, fine, fine… I'll severely maim you!"

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Alastor lunged for Joe's neck and wrestled him. He picked Joe up by his HMD shirt and slammed him repeatedly into the wall. Then he flung Joe down on the ground, where he hit his head one last time.

"Uggggghhh…." Joe slightly began to stir. His eyes blinked out of sync, one pupil larger than the other fleetingly. "My head….."

Alastor guwaffed maniacally as Joe stood him self up, painfully. Joe merely nodded and then the two went back to walking down the hall.

A devilish smile yanked Joe lips to the side. He wiggled his eyebrows and _thwappped_ his arm out, crashing Alastor THROUGH the wall.

Joe's smile died. He suddenly felt bad. He pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. "Oh craps he doesn't have a stunt double…"

Alastor's arm rose from the rubble and gave a thumbs up.

"I am OKAY!" he called from beneath the rock pile.

Joe hurried over to Alastor and helped him up. After his bruises were examined and his clothes were dusted off, the pals started down the hallway again, Alastor the Stylish grinning, Joe the Red Hero laughing hard and geekishly.

In good spirits, the henshin heroes turned the corner and walked into the door that lead to the movie set. Joe walked in first and Alastor tripped him. But Alastor was not allowed to laugh for too long; Captain Blue stood right in front of the hoodlums.

"You're late!"

THE END

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A little randomness is good for the soul. Randomness is unplanned fun, and here it was an unplanned story. :) Sorry if it was low-quality – it was specially written for my friends who are in a technology class. In fact that's probably one of you guys who just read this, ya? Well, hope you laughed your tails off, and my apologies for anybody who

Didn't understand the jokes

Can't take a joke at all

Thought this was a story about a gay romance. No Bishounen Ai! No yuri!

See you later, or the next Viewtiful Fanfiction from me,

With love (the good kind),

Falchion Seal

P.S I've always wanted to do this in a story –"Henshin-A-Go-Go, bitches!"


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